


Advanced Discipline and Heroism Decisions

by KoboldKing



Category: Sentinels of the Multiverse (Card Game)
Genre: F/F, Pre-Vengeance, Superheroes, Swearing, mild violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-15
Updated: 2019-01-23
Packaged: 2019-09-19 14:44:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 20,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17003640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KoboldKing/pseuds/KoboldKing
Summary: Devra Caspit is a superhero, but it takes more than phenomenal powers and a plucky spirit to save the day. As old faces resurface hungry for vengeance, both Unity and the heroes she idolizes will be pushed to their limits.





	1. Mission Control

**Author's Note:**

> Set in continuity with [Of Little Faith](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14156562), though having read the previous story is unnecessary.

Boredom. The greatest supervillain of all.

The boring office meeting was a constant of adult life, even for a superhero. In point of fact, Meredith Stinson was increasingly beginning to suspect that it was a _universal_ constant, and that even the most deranged supervillains, alien warlords, and reincarnated deities were at times subjected to them. This was a field of inquiry she might look into next time she had some of those in custody.

Certainly if there were a way for a responsible superhero to escape, outrun, or otherwise avoid them, Tachyon had not yet found the secret. Proof: that she was sitting here right now, occasionally sneaking bites out of the hidden bag of chips under the table while listening to Paul Parsons the 8th drone on.

"...although unconfirmed, these sightings might suggest a concerted hiring effort in the criminal underworld of eastern Bulgaria, most likely by Baron Blade," Legacy was continuing, gesturing over a map of Europe. "A surge of recruitment could suggest activities in this sphere, which would benefit no one. Various intelligence agencies operating on this part of the continent have confirmed that..."

Tachyon yawned. She'd gotten all this in the 'CLASSIFIED FILE' folder she'd grabbed and flipped through the last time Legacy coughed. Not to mention she was the one usually telling these 'intelligence' agencies what to be looking for in the first place. Most of them only put out an alarm if someone tried to smuggle guns or uranium. They wouldn't, for instance, track the purchases of unrefined ferrite to see if a mad scientist was planning on building a giant magnet strong enough to reverse the Earth's rotation and destroy every computer on the planet.

God, that had been a long weekend.

Now she'd run out of chips. Lovely. If she didn't get something to snack on, she would _die._ Specifically from boredom, not calorie deficit. She waited for the next time Legacy turned to look at the map and then blitzed away to her office, returning with a granola bar by the time he was addressing the group again.

Ugh, this one was stale.

Hadn't Dana bought a fresh box that morning?

Legacy sneezed, and Tachyon took the time to rush home, open the box of granola bars, and race back just as he raised a hand to cover the expelled mucus.

"Bwess you," she said with her mouth full.

He gave her a flat look. "Thank you. I don't suppose you'd refill my coffee next time I blink, would you?"

"Eh, I'd have to go _all the way_ downstairs."

Legacy sighed, but with an amused look in his eyes he tried to cover by turning back to the map. What a big goofy dork. Tachyon was no errand girl, but she made sure there was fresh coffee in his 'World's Greatest Dad' mug by the time he turned around. They were out of the vanilla creamer so she had to run to the supermarket. Hopefully their computers were fast enough to scan her card this time. She really didn't have the time for more stupid shoplifting charges.

Aaaaaand Legacy started talking again. Time to listen again. _Actually_ listen, this time.

Oh no. Bunker just stood up. Now he was talking. He was normally interesting enough, but he was in full-on army officer mode now. _Nobody_ was more boring than a man the U.S. Government had specifically authorized as credible and worth listening to.

Fortunately, Tachyon remembered seeing a picture slightly askew at home when she'd rushed through. She couldn't just leave that be, of course. She might have been the one who messed it up last time she ran past! What would Dana think?

"In summary," Bunker was saying, "Various transactions in this sphere are being mon-"

All the way back home! Through busy traffic, through dozens of hazardously unpristine lawns, and an entire city's worth of now slightly confused citizens with wind-frazzled hair. All this way just to reorient that picture slightly and speed back. Tachyon was a _saint._ A woman of greater care and patience than most of the world could ever fully know.

"-itored in case of nefarious activity," Bunker's sentence finished, just as Tachyon seated herself again.

Wait. That sounded like the exact same sentence she just skipped out on. Could it be... that trip didn't kill _any_ time at all? She hadn't actually avoided _any_ part of this meeting?

No... no! How could this happen? It was true... she was just _too_ fast!

She slumped her head against her desk and groaned softly, as the torture of the ages crept slowly on.

A weary eternity passed. Word after word passed by, and not a single one held any interest for her. Lieutenant Tyler Vance seemed intent on dragging out this meeting in the way that only a decorated army man could. And to think she once thought he was different from the rest! Even the Wraith looked bored out of her mind, and she was usually all over anything he had to say.

Tick tock, tick tock. Tachyon's watch suddenly became _incredibly_ fascinating, and she stared at it as the seconds slowly crept by like drops of molasses oozing their way across sandpaper.

Tick tock, tick tock. Tachyon suddenly had a brilliant idea for a new kind of toaster oven! She blitzed away to grab a pencil and paper and started sketching it out, at least until Legacy gave her a disapproving look. Ugh. _Fine._

Tick tock, tick tock. Tachyon brainstormed a bit of her upcoming novel that had been upcoming for six years now. You couldn't rush art, okay?

Tick tock, tick tock. Bunker stopped talking. Was it finally over? Was she free at last?! No, he just took a drink of water. Damn it. The bastard had come _prepared_ for the long lecture against their sanity.

Tick tock, tick tock. Tachyon tried to pay attention to Bunker's speculation on what sort of apocalyptic invention Baron Blade might be scheming, but found herself instead thinking about how _she_ could make a much better doomsday device than he ever could. She'd never even _think_ about actually _making_ one, of course, but damn it, you could only see so many backfire spectacularly or implode in failure without thinking about how you'd do it _right!_ Hers wouldn't use a giant magnet. Hers would be a particle accelerator that would collapse the planet into a black hole. Like a _real_ scientist would make.

Of course, if she _did_ decide to make a doomsday device, this board meeting was swiftly becoming a legitimate tragic backstory.

Eventually Bunker stopped talking for _real_ , and Tachyon let out an internal cheer. She'd survived! Sweet mother of Marie Curie, she'd _survived._ She couldn't wait to see Dana again—but would her lovely wife even recognize her after the eternity they'd spent apart?

She raced to the door, but found the doorknob to be frozen into a block of ice. Her heart dropped, and she swiveled around to see Absolute Zero staring coldly at her from behind his blue visor.

So... it had finally happened. Ryan Frost had turned to the dark side. Tachyon would not forgive this betrayal.

"That will be about all," Legacy was saying, "But there is _one_ more thing I'd like to discuss. Thanks for holding Tachyon, Zero."

"I'd have picked a different name if I knew that was how you'd all shorten it."

Tachyon slumped against the door, looking for something, _anything_ to drone out whatever last-minute musings were to be sadistically tacked onto this meeting. She had to survive this. For herself. For science. For Dana.

"I want to talk about Devra Caspit."

Suddenly Tachyon's brain went sharp, and Legacy had her full attention. She blitzed back to her chair, meeting him with a serious look.

"What about her?"

Legacy stroked his chin, as though looking for words. "I'll be the first to admit I was... skeptical about bringing an intern into the Freedom Five program. I was certainly worried about her safety when Tachyon first suggested bringing her on missions."

"It was her idea, and I was inclined to allow it," Tachyon replied. "It's not as though she's too young. If it weren't for the internship she'd be in the Israeli armed forces."

"True," Bunker said, arms crossed. "And I'm starting to think she's a soldier at heart, even if she hasn't had the right training yet. If I had any doubts about that they went away after Insula Primalis."

Legacy nodded. "My thoughts exactly. I was impressed with her when we brought her onto a mobile defense platform, but on that island... she showed a kind of fortitude I've seen trained professionals lack."

"She's also scatterbrained, a tad obnoxious, and she eats my stuff," Absolute Zero grumbled. His annoyance was quite audible even through the crackle of his suit speaker. "I have to pack a dozen spares every time we bring her 'cause she'll make most of them into little pink peashooters by the time we get home."

"You should prepare redundant components anyway," Tachyon pointed out. "And we're bringing her supply crates and workbenches now, so she shouldn't need to 'eat your stuff' quite so often."

"Hmph. Still have my doubts."

"So do I," the Wraith said in her quiet voice. The table turned to look at her; she tended to stay quiet, especially about interpersonal matters. Her eyes flitted around at the various gazes she drew, and she took a deep breath.

"It's not that I don't... _like_ Unity," she continued slowly. "She's a good person; she fights hard, she cares a lot about what she does, and every now and then, she makes me smile."

Not that anyone would be likely to see that, since the Wraith _still_ insisted on wearing that mask everywhere as though it were attached to her mouth.

"But it's hard to deny she has some issues that can get in the way of a mission," she went on. "For all the firepower she's able to bring to bear, she's still delicate enough to be at serious risk when the opposition fires back. I run into that problem, but I know how to watch for danger and do my best to avoid it. I'm not sure she has the ability to focus on her surroundings and do the same."

Tachyon was quiet. She'd worried about the same thing, especially during their last mission against the Citizens of the Sun. Working with another hero, Unity had held her own and participated in capturing two particularly dangerous Citizens. But she'd taken some lumps doing it, and there had been a part of the battle in which she'd simply disappeared and Tachyon had found herself dreading the worst.

"You see the dilemma," Legacy pondered out loud. His eyes bored intensely into his 'World's Greatest Dad' mug. "Training a new hero benefits us as well as the world. But to train a new hero we have to expose them to the very dangers that threaten the planet. When does that become an acceptable risk?"

The table turned silent, each hero there deep in thought. There was a balance here none of them quite knew how to gauge.

"I think it comes down to training," Bunker said finally. "She's got more grit than a lot of the guys I went into boot camp with. Put her through the same kind of course, and I don't think we'll have any cause to worry."

"Agreed," Tachyon replied. "But she is an intern at one of the world's foremost laboratories, not a soldier. She doesn't need boot camp."

"She does, perhaps, need a boot somewhere else," Zero crackled lazily. Everyone else ignored him.

"There's a middle ground to be had," the Wraith said. "Expand the types of mission we set her to. I didn't learn what I know from being coddled, but the military model can too easily make thick-headed jarheads who only know how to follow orders."

Her eyes glanced towards Bunker. "...present company excluded."

"No offense taken."

Tachyon tapped her fingers against the table, lost in thought. "Do you have something in mind?"

The Wraith was quiet for a long minute, staring silently across the folders and sheets of information laid out in front of her. "I do," she said finally. "But she is really not going to like it."

 


	2. Brainstorm

Devra Caspit had a sparking _awesome_ idea.

It was gonna be rad as all get out, but it did take up a pretty big amount of lab space. Also, she'd ransacked a good part of the Freedom Five HQ for pillows and cushions she taped all over the walls, just in case. _Also,_ she'd made a ton of Med Bots and Go-Get-Help Bots and Fire-Extinguisher Bots _just in case_ , just so it would be totally safe. This set-up was the very _model_ of a secure and scientifically responsible laboratory experiment.

Anyway, Unity was almost done with her kick-ass exploding sword.

One of her golems floated over and handed to her, and she drew it carefully from its containment vessel like King Arthur pulling the sword out of the stone. It was long and wicked sharp, with occasional splotches along the blade that glowed bright pink. It was super lightweight and easy to hold, 'cause she'd built in a ton of delicate gravitonics into it. It was basically weightless.

"Note to self," she said out loud. "Resist the urge to swing this around willy-nilly. Not unless I'm willing to replace some fingers."

"Ha ha," said Audience Bot. Audience Bot did his best, but his responses were cold, a little bit soulless, and ultimately just made Unity sad if she went too long with no actual humans to laugh at her.

"Welp, no sense putting this off," Unity sighed. She gripped her knuckles firmly around the hilt of the sword and raised it up high, facing a target she'd propped up on the far end of the laboratory. If her calculations were right, she needed to swing it at an exact ninety degree angle...

She swung.

It worked! A plume of pink energy blasted out of the blade, burning through the air in a precise pathway straight to the target! The target blew up!

Also, the force of the blast threw her backwards across the lab, hitting the cushioned wall behind her with a thud. It hurt a lot and she sucked in a deep breath of air to replace what just got knocked out of her lungs, but as soon as she had her oxygen back she let out a loud whoop.

"Ha! That was sparking _awesome!_ Woo!"

She sat back up quickly, a broad grin on her face as she came face to face with Dr. Meredith Stinson.

"Devra, just what on Earth do you think you're doing?"

Unity's smile vanished. "Oh, uh... it's... well you see it's kind of... um... research?"

Tachyon's eyes took rapid stock of the padded laboratory, the myriad golems standing at attention, the obliterated remnants of a target, and the badass sword Unity was still holding. She looked confused, and also disapproving, and disapproving that there was something going on here she was confused about.

"When I told you to work on your own projects, I was picturing programming or engineering."

"This is actually both!" Unity said with a hesitant smile, standing up straight and brushing some soot off her safety vest. "I put most of it together with my powers, but I've got all kinds of programming in it so it does what it's supposed to do."

Tachyon raised an eyebrow. "...what is it supposed to do?"

"Shoot lasers. It's a laser sword."

"Why do you think you need a laser sword?"

"Because..." Unity bit her lip, deep in thought. "...because Fanatic has one and it's freaking awesome?"

The world's fastest superhero slowly rubbed the bridge of her nose. "Devra, I don't want you building and testing weapons in here."

Unity frowned. "Why not? I'm fighting supervillains now, so isn't this sort of thing important?"

"Training is important, but this is dangerous," Tachyon said, her voice stern. "Also-"

She blitzed away in a blur, returning a second later with a gust of wind and a stack of papers.

"-you didn't finish compiling the results from the argon tube chamber."

"I was actually gonna finish that up as _soon_ as I was done in here," Unity started, but Tachyon kept going.

"You also left an unfinished literary essay on top of the supercomputer."

"I sort of started carrying that around with me so I wouldn't forget about-"

There was a brief sound of papers shuffling as Tachyon flipped through them. "It starts off about _Merchant of Venice_ but you randomly cut to a biography of George Washington Carver partway through."

"There's actually a connection there, I just haven't finished the bridge paragraph for-"

"Devra."

"...yes, Dr. Stinson?"

"This _has_ to change."

Devra bowed her head, hands behind her back and her shoe scuffing across the floor. "I... yes ma'am. Sorry."

Tachyon was already wearing a different labcoat, going over a clipboard for some other experiment. "You need to learn how to focus, Devra. You are a _very_ intelligent young woman, but you go through idea after idea like I go through sneakers. You need to be able to give one project your undivided attention until it's done."

"I'm trying-" Unity began, but Tachyon vanished for a second and was back with a vial of mysterious blue fluid she was holding up to the light.

"I need you to do better than try. These are serious issues. Inability to focus or change habits is a major factor in why Krystal Lee was severed from the program."

Devra's blood ran cold, her eyes widening in stark fear. "I'll do better. Please, I... I don't want to leave."

Tachyon frowned at her, and when she spoke again her voice was much softer. "I'm sorry," she said consolingly. "That wasn't meant to be a threat. Krystal had... other problems, which is the reason we let her go. You are not only a better intern than she ever was, but an infinitely better human being. I'm not firing you over some misplaced essays."

Devra breathed a deep sigh of relief. "Thank you. I _will_ do better though. Things have just been..."

"Crazy? Out of control? A whirlwind?"

She nodded her head. "Yeah, you could say that. Any of that."

"Believe me, I know." Tachyon leaned against the padded wall, arms crossed. She'd apparently put the bottles of chemicals back in some lab chamber while Devra was sighing. "Life goes at a wild pace sometimes. For what it's worth, you're adjusting a lot faster than anyone could reasonably have demanded of you. You went from skipping classes to putting supervillains away in months."

"Only 'cause I've had a ton of help."

"Devra, we _all_ need help," Tachyon said soothingly. "It's why we're the Freedom Five. None of us could take on the likes of Baron Blade or Citizen Dawn on our own, so we work as a team. We've only gotten as far as we have because we've pushed each other along."

"Maybe you guys can push me along while you're at it?" Devra smiled nervously.

Tachyon looked up from a portable electron microscope she'd grabbed from somewhere in the space between sentences. "Huh? What was that?"

"Nevermind," Devra sighed. "Guess I'll put this stuff up and get back to those argon results."

"Yes, yes... oh! Wait!" Tachyon zoomed away, coming back without the microscope and holding a tablet with plane schedules displayed across it. "I came down here to tell you that the Wraith and I had a talk. You're going to Rook City."

"I'm _what?_ "

"Not permanently," Tachyon said hastily. "Just for a night. We talked about you at our meeting, and we think going with her on one of her nightly missions might do you some good."

"Oh my God..." Devra said slowly, her eyes open wide.

"I know it's not the lab," Tachyon began. "But I think you'll-"

"I get to go on a one-on-one mission with the _Wraith!_ Woo! That's sparking awesome!"

Unity beamed, her spark and her good cheer back. The Wraith was _easily_ one of the coolest members of the Freedom Five. One of the top five, in fact. She had an aura of super awesome mystery that both intimidated her a little bit _and_ made her geek out. Now she'd get to work with her!

"You'll have to do _exactly_ as she says," Tachyon warned. "No arguments, no fuss. On this mission, she will be your boss, senior researcher, and commanding officer all in one."

"Don't worry about that! I'll do exactly what she says. Promise."

"Good." Tachyon flashed her a small smile. "You're shaping up to be a fine hero, Devra. Just stay focused and study hard."

Pride welled up in Unity's chest. "Thank you, Dr. Stinson. I won't let you guys down. Uh, when does the flight take off? Am I staying in Rook City overnight? Do I need to pack my toothbrush? Is there gonna be-"

"Just be in the flight bay in thirty minutes. The Wraith will tell you everything you need to know."

"Got it! Man, this is gonna be awesome..."

She started out of the lab, and could swear she heard Tachyon's voice muttering "Oh, you sweet summer child." But when she turned around the doctor was already gone, blitzed away for some other science experiment. Sparks, she was cool.

And so was the Wraith!

And this mission would be too. Time to be not just a superhero, but a superhero _ninja._

 


	3. Supply Crate

The Wraith stalked the shadows.

Her movements were swift, moving from cover to cover not in a rush but with the fluid grace of a prowling predator. Her footsteps were silent, her cape fluttering soundlessly behind her. At times like this she felt less a part of the shadows and more like a shadow herself.

Moving this way was probably unnecessary. This was, after all, the Freedom Five headquarters. Yet a habit was a habit, and this would be a dangerous one to abandon.

She found Unity waiting in the flight bay as she'd been instructed. Right on time, which was good; it showed the girl really _was_ committed to what she'd chosen to do. That wasn't enough all on its own, but it was the foundation upon which a hero could be built. Maia Montogomery knew that better than anyone.

It seemed probable Unity had actually gotten here _earlier_ than she needed to, and this was clearly torturing her. She was pacing back and forth, hands making absentminded motions at her sides. What would have once been a box of spare parts was swirling around her in a river of pink energy, shaping into odd constructs as she mused.

The Wraith felt like she should be annoyed over the loss of the materials, but she found herself intrigued watching the girl use her powers. She didn't often get a chance like this to observe a teammate undetected, seeing them use their powers in their idle time. Unity's abilities were instinctive for her as surely as sticking to the shadows had become instinctive for the Wraith.

What should have been a wrench shaped into a miniature of Tachyon, and then into a Legacy, and then a Wraith. The girl's thoughts were gurgling along like a rushing river, and the metal reflected that. Now it was a tiny angel. Now a dinosaur. Now a cartoonish caricature of Citizen Dawn. Could that brain of hers stand still even for a minute?

Even more of the once supply crate started to mutate. First spare parts, now a swirling vortex of half-designed robots, each one reflecting a different half-formed thought...

Maia felt like she had a better grasp on the girl's mental state. She was now _certain_ tonight's activities would do her some good.

The Wraith struck from the shadows.

"Those parts are very expensive, you know," she said softly, gliding out behind the woman.

"GAH!" Unity jumped in alarm, sending metal clattering all across the floor as she lost whatever passed for focus in her head. She quickly turned around to face the surprising voice, putting a hand on her chest and breathing heavily. "Oh my God... you almost made me the world's first and youngest superhero to die of a heart attack."

The Wraith didn't respond, instead kneeling down to pick up a piece of discarded metal. It was one of the little figures; a little Wraith doll cast in stainless steel. It had seemed so loose and fluid a minute ago, but now was as rigid as a statue. Hmm...

"Oh. _Oh._ You weren't kidding about the expensive thing. Uh..." Unity stammered, nervously rubbing the back of her head. It was her personal nervous tic—the Wraith had spent a long time training herself out of the tics she had herself, but she could forgive the intern for hers. Not _everyone_ had to be as free of weaknesses as the Wraith strived to be.

"You'll have to help replace them," the Wraith said, dropping the figure and standing straight again. "I'm sure putting them back together from instruction pamphlets won't be a problem for you."

"No, I can do that," Unity said hesitantly, smiling slightly. "I'm _really_ sorry. Those crates kind of looked like the ones I keep full in the lab, so I guess I thought-"

"Stop right there," the Wraith interrupted. "First rule of self improvement: never excuse your failings. You didn't _think_ anything. You acted without thinking, as you often do. If you are to overcome that problem, you have to face it for what it is, not make excuses for the specific instances it gets you into trouble."

"...right. I didn't think." Unity bowed her head guiltily, clasping her hands behind her back. "I'll do better."

The Wraith's face softened, though through her mask she doubted the young technopath would be able to see it. That was for the best. A stern teacher was what Devra Caspit needed at this stage of her life... and the Wraith, even at her sharpest, was nowhere _near_ so stern as life itself could be. Better cold words from another hero than brutal life lessons.

"No sense standing around," she said finally, moving in a gliding motion to the plane. "We have a mission tonight. We need to focus."

"Right... the mission!" Unity's eyes filled with that fierce determination once more as she followed swiftly in the Wraith's footsteps. "Dr. Stinson was telling me about that. There's something going on in Rook City, right?"

"There's always something going on in Rook City," the Wraith replied in a dry tone. "But yes, _tonight_ there's something going on I want you to be a part of."

"You can count on me," Unity said earnestly. "Whoever it is, we are gonna _kick their sorry butts._ What's the scenario? More Baron Blade activities? Is it the Citizens of the Sun again? Some kind of alien crash landing?"

"None of the above. I think it's corporate sabotage."

Unity's face visibly lost interest, like a television screen suddenly going black. "...um, what? That doesn't really sound like a... superhero kind of concern."

"It's a crime. That makes it our concern whether or not it would sell comics." She popped open the hatch on her private jet and clambered in, gesturing Unity to do the same.

The girl frowned, but did as she was told, her eyes lighting up a little bit again upon looking around the plane. "I guess heroics are heroics. Also, this plane is _wicked_ cool."

"Good to know it was money well spent," the Wraith muttered, settling herself in the pilot's chair. She was quiet a moment, letting Unity take a look around and make herself comfortable. Though she'd hate to admit it, it _was_ pretty nice to see someone geeking out over her stuff. Unity's enthusiasm could be infectious to boot.

"Go ahead and take a seat. Next stop is Rook City."

 

* * *

 

 

Amanda Cohen once again killed her own mother.

The shot rang out through the otherwise empty refinery, a hollow echo masked by the droning traffic, intermittent car horns, and other more distant gunshots that all made up the ambience of Rook City after dark. The flickering fluorescent light overhead revealed what Amanda didn't need to see to believe. A hanging portrait of Citizen Dawn had a wide hole right between the woman's cold eyes; Amanda's latest shot had gone right through the same bullet hole her every other shot had.

Expatriette hadn't lost her touch. If anything, time only made her more lethal.

With a bitter smile she slid Pride and Prejudice back into their holsters, turning her back on the repeatedly murdered photograph. Target practice kept her quick and sharp, but not much was needed. She was already a perfected killing machine. Hell. Half of what she did was for the pure emotional relief. Therapy was for pussies.

She walked past loud machines that repeatedly pressed, refined, and output rows of bullets that rode belts right into her supply crates. Electric bullets. Freezing bullets. Rubber bullets. All designed by the great and oh so brilliant Meredith Stinson, a woman who understood everything in the universe except that some people really needed to have a regular piercing piece of metal put between their eyes.

Well, if the options were working soft or not working at all, Expatriette was wise enough to pick her poison. There was a line between superhero and vigilante that no one could define but everyone was quick to uphold; a woman who put superpowered assholes in prison was a hero, but that same woman putting them in the ground was a menace who took justice into her own hands. The simple fact of the matter was that she could change the world better from outside the Block than within it. The simple fact was also that Dr. Stinson had been merciful to supply the special ammunition molds instead of blitzing her into the Block faster than she could blink.

So.

Mercy.

Mercy was the letter of the law, and _teamwork_ was the unwritten one. Expatriette could make Rook City a better place—for what little that meant—but she had to do it the superhero way. And, from time to time, superheroes expected her to play nice with them. She could do that. Expatriette was _great_ at teamwork.

As long as everyone else wasn't a fucking moron.

Her phone buzzed.

_"Heading to RC. Arrive in half an hour."_

Simple and to the point. Professional. If there was one thing the Wraith _wasn't_ , it was a fucking moron—which made her the one self-proclaimed superhero that Expatriette could tolerate working with.

There was another reason, but mainly it was the same reason that the Wraith was a decent professional to begin with: no powers. A human being was only worth the time of day if they worked to push their limits, and superhumans never would. Why would you? If you could lift trains or run faster than sound a normal human pace was _beneath_ you. The humans you saved were nothing but fuel for boasting, and the humans you worked with were sidekicks or worse. Why the Wraith put up with the ego of her peers was well beyond Expatriette's guess.

A whim. A spin. A gunshot. Two gunshots. Three.

She went from not having a gun in her hand to firing multiple shots in less than a second. Good. Real power was in human limits pushed to their extreme.

The photo of Citizen Dawn spun on the end of its cord, shot into a tattered mess that scattered in the air. Amanda Cohen didn't smile this time. She put on a mask of professionalism.

Yeah, she could work with a superhero. She didn't have to like it. And she sure as hell didn't need their approval.

Expatriette was the best human woman she could be, and that was a goddamn masterpiece.

 


	4. Synaptic Interruption

It almost sucked to stop now. The day had only _just_ started to fly by.

Tachyon sped from chamber to chamber, finishing everything up for the day. Taking the last notes on the heavy xenoctrium decay observation; reading her correspondences from the Department of Entomology at Megalopolis University; running another couple of tests on her experimental new canoe design; counting yeast cultures in the fungology chamber; solving another couple of equations on her potential space-time distortion generator...

Chamber by chamber she finished up in a whirlwind of activity. She shed labcoats and sets of safety goggles everywhere she went, wrote a thousand numbers on more clipboards than she knew what to do with, and came up with six more ideas for projects. A purple tomato plant could solve _so_ many problems, if you could pull off the chlorophyll-anthocyanin subsitution just right!

When the clock struck eight the laboratory exit saw only a white blur exiting at high speeds, everything locking up behind it exactly as it should. Tachyon always felt a sense of disappointment at leaving the lab and her work behind her for the day, but fortunately the past few years had given her something else to occupy her time after work hours. Something more important.

Dana.

She zoomed down Megalopolis streets, zipping through traffic and unkempt lawns on her way back to the lovely home in the better part of the city. It was only when she was right at the door that she slowed down, and took her time in unlocking the door and strolling inside.

"Honey! I'm home!"

And then she saw her.

Somehow every time she looked at her, Meredith Stinson was back to the young college student who'd so _slowly,_ painstakingly realized she was in love. A brain that could run Einstein's formulas fast enough to make computers turn away in embarrassment suddenly stood still. A mouth that could spit out "Pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis" like it was kindergarten vocabulary was at a loss for words. Eyes that could track a mole of hydrogen's worth of electrons were fixated only on one perfect face.

Dana didn't say anything. She only smiled, and pulled her wife in for a loving kiss. The world itself all slowed down, and Meredith was perfectly happy to stand still with it for a long blissful moment.

"How was work?" she breathed softly, when their kiss finally broke.

"Oh, same old same old," Dana said, smiling and pecking her on the lips again. "Modeling isn't _as_ dynamic a profession as saving the world."

"Because saving the world requires changing all the time, and you're already perfect?"

"We're married," Dana laughed. "You don't have to pull out the sappy college lines again."

"I can't help it." Meredith relaxed, letting out a deep and contented sigh. "Didn't actually do any world-saving today, though. Mostly just sat through an _obnoxiously_ long meeting."

"I know," Dana said with a wry smile. "You ransacked my granola bars."

"Whoops. You weren't saving those, were you?"

"Only as much as I always am," her wife replied, voice teasing. "Considering I can't eat _my_ weight in snacks every day without doubling in size."

Meredith cracked an apologetic smile. "Want me to grab you a new box? It would just take a sec. Less than a sec."

"What I _want -_ "

Back through traffic. Back across the city. Back into the store, back to the granola bar aisle, back through self-checkout, back across the city and back by Dana's side again.

"-is for you to slow down and rela..." Dana trailed off with a sigh, taking the new box from her wife. "Mere..."

"What?" Meredith frowned in confusion, before settling into a grimace. With a sigh she plopped herself down on the loveseat. "It's become a bit of a habit."

"I've noticed." Dana shook her a head a bit, but came to join her wife. "That meeting must have been hell on you."

"You have _no_ idea. Tyler started talking, and he is the _most_ interesting man in the United States armed forces up until he starts talking like a man from the United States armed forces."

"I'm sure," Dana grinned. "Anything else? How's that internship working out?"

"Devra... hmm." Meredith chewed on her lip, thinking. She slipped her shoes off and put them away in the span of a microsecond, making a note to buy a new pair soon. These were burning away fast. "She's complicated to deal with."

Dana frowned in concern. "Like Krystal?"

"No—thank God, no. I couldn't deal with that again."

Meredith shuddered, memories of difficult day after difficult day coming flooding back to her. She'd had so much on her plate back then, and the events that culminated in Lee's termination had made her want to scream and yank out her hair. "Krystal couldn't screw in a bolt without practicing her Nobel acceptance speech, and couldn't take a word of criticism without acting like you'd just slapped her in the face. And then after all that, having the nerve to _steal_ from me-"

"I've heard all this before," Dana interrupted, gently pulling her back on track. "How is Devra different?"

Right. Devra.

"Devra... is a young woman with a big heart and a way bigger brain than she knows what to do with. She has high ambitions for herself, but helping other people always comes first. And above all else, she works and tries _hard_ every day, which Krystal never would."

"What's the complicated part, then?"

"The _complicated_ part is that she doesn't know what to do with herself. She jumps around from project to project with no focus at all." Meredith's eyes caught the picture from earlier slightly askew again. _Ugh,_ why did that keep happening? She blitzed over there and set it right again, settling back on the loveseat to find Dana smiling at her.

"So she's just a little bit attention-deficit, huh?"

"Pretty much," Meredith sighed. "I don't know if she actually has the _disorder—_ psychiatry's not one of my PhD's—but she certainly has a disorderly mind. It makes it hard for me to put her on one thing and keep her there."

"But you try your best," said Dana, her eyes twinkling a bit. "Considering."

Now Meredith frowned. "Considering what?"

The curtains were a little ruffled, so she zoomed over there and fixed them real quick. She wasn't terribly fond of the color, and found herself brainstorming potential replacements. Maybe something in indigo? Indigo was underused in their home decor.

"Are you really going to make me say it?" Dana asked, raising an eyebrow as Meredith took a seat again. "What are you thinking about right now?"

"This conversation, obviously." She hesitated a moment. "...also I had an idea for prolonging the existence of exotic proton arrangements long enough for study."

" _Your_ brain has a focus problem," Dana said softly. "It just solves problems fast enough that you finish the thoughts before you get dragged on to the next one. Most of the time."

Meredith stared, her wife's words sinking into her brain.

She... Dr. Meredith Stinson... head of the Eaken-Rubendall Laboratory... the superhero Tachyon... with an attention deficiency? She, who ran more projects every day than a uranium atom had outer electron shells? Ooh, actually, uranium might be the key to solving that exotic proton problem she'd been having...

"Earth to Meredith," Dana said, rolling her eyes with a smile. "Are you there?"

"Huh? Oh, right." Meredith snapped out of it. "What were we talking about?"

 


	5. Pride and Prejudice

"So what's the story behind all the kung fu? Did you like, train in the Himalayas with Tibetan monks, or maybe there was a master here in the city who trained you, or..."

The Wraith didn't look up from her pilot's nav-board, the silhouette of Rook City growing larger and larger ahead. "Neither. I took martial arts classes."

"A class?" Unity frowned from the back seat, looking disappointed. "Really? That's it? I thought..."

"Sometimes it really is that simple," the Wraith said, flipping a couple of switches to slow the plane. "And going to the Himalayas would be a bit too time consuming for my taste."

The entire plane ride thus far had been a constant barrage of questions from the younger hero, who seemed to be relishing every moment of her time with the Wraith. She wanted to know _everything_ about her—why she wore her cape, how her microtargeting computer worked, who she regarded as her archnemesis, where she learned martial arts...

It was flattering, really. Annoying. But mostly flattering... with a fair side of annoying. It was a complicated fusion of emotions. At the very least, it was good to get as much talking out of Devra's system as was physically possible.

"We're about to land," she said abruptly. "I want you to focus your mind and be prepared for the mission."

"Yes ma'am." Unity's face became perfectly still and serious, even if her fingers were still flexing and fidgeting. "I won't let you down."

"I trust that you won't," the Wraith replied, and Unity's face burst into a beam despite how much she seemed to be trying to avoid that. The Wraith hid a smile of her own behind her mask, steeping the plane into a slow descent onto the roof of a building she owned. A flock of crows scattered into the cloudy night, their caws mingling with the sound of the landing jet and distant police sirens.

Rook City. No place for a hero to call home, but certainly a place for a hero to learn life's lessons. The Wraith wouldn't be the person she was had she grown up in any other city... for better or for worse.

"Wow," Unity said blankly, staring out the plane's window and out at the dark cityscape. Her voice was like a small child on Christmas pretending to be enthused about a crappy present. "It's so... _gray._ "

"It does keep up a certain aesthetic," the Wraith said, fishing in a compartment beside her. She tossed the bag backwards at the younger hero. "It's best to blend in here. Go to the back and put those on."

"Really? I get my own costume?!" Unity's smile was broader than before. "Awesome. I'll be right out!"

"I'll be outside." The Wraith was already silently moving out of the cockpit and towards the door. "We're working with a partner tonight, and I need to speak with her."

"Roger that." Unity took her bag and quickly headed for the back, everything from her smile to her gait screaming of the naive excitement bubbling out of her.

 

* * *

 

"Thanks for waiting, Amanda."

If the woman kneeling by the building's edge with rifle in hand had any objections to being called by her first name, she didn't show it. She simply acknowledged the Wraith's presence with a grunt.

"Not easy to cover every angle by myself. You're a convenient luxury."

The Wraith cracked another smile, though of course the other woman couldn't see it. Expatriette was a proud woman who wasn't prone to admitting she needed help in this city. Not many would. Surely as the jungle would train animals in the law of tooth and claw, Rook City had a way of teaching those who walked its streets to be distrustful. But even as hardened a veteran as she was couldn't afford to turn it down when offered.

"Together we can be certain nothing gets past us. You remember the time at the industrial complex."

Expatriette growled. "That rat did _not_ get the drop on me. I knew he was there long before you came in with your fancy gadgets."

"Right, of course." The Wraith cocked an eyebrow at her. "My point still stands. Five eyes are better than one."

"I suppose that's true," Expatriette admitted. "We'll need to—wait."

Her eye narrowed into a suspicious squint. "What do you mean _five_ eyes?"

"You only have the one."

"Cut the crap, superhero."

The Wraith sighed. She knew she was going to have to get into this sooner or later. "I brought... an _ally_ up from headquarters. I figured we could use the help."

"Not from those neon-tinted spandex sausages you work with," Expatriette snapped. "Those idiots are all the same. They'll rush in with their powers and fuck up the whole night."

"They're better than that," the Wraith countered, meeting the mercenary's stare. "If my teammates were as dense as you think we would never have defeated enemies like Voss. Or Omnitron. Or _Dawn._ "

That did nothing to improve Expatriette's mood; it was obvious she was practically fuming, though she had enough discipline not to explode like many others in her line of business would. Instead she just rattled out her next sentence in a rough, gravelly voice. "If your little teammate spooks the perp and wastes the night, I swear..."

"This night won't be wasted. Trust me on that, Amanda. You know I wouldn't put any mission in jeopardy."

Expatriette's gaze drilled into her, but finally relented in defeat. "... _fine._ They'll be at your post so no skin off my back."

She shook her head, sighing with irritation. "Which one is it anyway? The army grunt? The human icebox? The walking 4th of July parade?"

"Very creative nicknames, but no," the Wraith said dryly. She hesitated a moment. "...have you heard of Unity?"

The one-eyed glare said yes.

 

* * *

 

 

Turns out it was less of a cool ninja costume and more of a... black... less exciting version of what she was already wearing. Which was okay, of course. Unity liked being utilitarian. She just kind of hoped being utilitarian would mean 'looking like the Wraith for a night.'

It did nothing to dampen her enthusiasm, though. She swiftly got changed and headed out of the plane, finding herself out on the roof of a tall, nondescript gray building.

Again it struck her—Rook City was _dark._ It was like a noir novel cover rejected for being too edgy, or the first minute of a cheesy horror movie that was trying way too hard with the aesthetic. There was hardly any light at all besides what was coming off the moon, which was usually being covered up by wispy and ominous clouds floating across the sky. The skyline looked _jagged,_ and even in this murky gloom Unity could tell there were gargoyles on practically every building. What kind of architect signed off on any of this? It made downtown Ofakim look like Disneyland.

She found the Wraith hunched over the edge of the building, talking to... basically the last kind of person she'd expect a member of the Freedom Five to be talking to.

"There you are, Devra," the Wraith said, not looking up but apparently hearing her footsteps. "I want you to meet our partner for the night. This is Expatriette."

She'd heard of Expatriette before. No one knew much about her, but any girl fascinated by superheroes would have seen her name in the records of Voss' invasion and in the tales of despicable supervillains picked off by an unseen sniper rifle. But nothing she'd read prepared her for seeing the woman in the flesh.

Expatriette was, simply put, the scariest woman Unity had ever seen. She was dressed head to toe in guns and ammo pouches, and had a machine gun in her hands she seemed to be polishing. Her hair was short and purple, which should have looked cute but somehow looked sharp and rugged instead. Part of her face was badly scarred, a bit like Baron Blade's, and one eye was covered up with a pitch black eyepatch. The other eye was _angry._ It just barely moved to acknowledge Unity's presence, but she could feel a bitter vibe wash over her just from the second that it did.

The weirdest part was, she could _swear_ she'd seen this woman somewhere before. Not just from the pictures; it seemed more to come from that _glare_ than anything else. Maybe she'd seen someone who looked like her? It was a weird feeling.

It took her a moment to realize she was staring. "Oh... sorry," she stammered, grinning awkwardly. "Um, nice to meet you, Expatriette. I'm Unity."

She held out her hand in greeting. Expatriette clearly didn't even consider taking it. "You're the Israeli kid, right? The one that makes robots?"

_I'm not a kid._ Unity pouted, but didn't say anything about that. "Yeah, that's me. It's nice to meet y-"

"Let's get one thing straight," Expatriette interrupted, her one eye glaring. "Tonight, you keep your eyes peeled, your mouth shut, and your powers to _yourself._ This is not a night for thrilling heroics or whatever PG-13 blockbusters put in your head."

This coming from a woman Rambo would call edgy. Still, Unity stiffened and did her best to keep any snark out of her voice. She could be as professional as any edgy mercenary lady if she had to be."Got it. I'm just here to do what the Wraith tells me to."

"You do that." Expatriette patted one of the guns by her side. "And let me add another rule. _Do not touch my stuff._ "

"Right. I don't really need to, I've got some parts in my pouch here I could use to-"

"Sorry, let me make this more clear," Expatriette said severely. "Under _no circumstances_ do you touch my weapons or my ammo. Any piece of equipment I have on me is more useful and more dangerous than anything you could turn it into. Even if you don't have a nickel or a nail on you, _do not touch my stuff_."

"Right, I get it." Unity folded her arms, feeling offended. "I mean, that's not really true, since I can make highly energized laser swords, and-"

"Sorry, let me make myself even _more clear,_ " Expatriette cut in. "If you turn one of my guns into a dancing robot or _whatever_ you think will be useful, I will smash it back into shape and shove it so far up your ass that you won't be able to swallow without turning the safety off. Got it?"

Unity simply stared at her a long moment. "...alright, jeez, got it. Also, rude."

Expatriette opened her mouth to say something, but the Wraith interrupted. "She's got it, Amanda. She won't get a chance to touch your stuff anyway. She's going to be with me."

_Oh thank God,_ Unity thought, turning her eyes heavenwards. _Also, have I heard the name Amanda recently? I swear I did..._

She shook away that thought. It wasn't important right now.

"What exactly is the mission?" Unity asked finally, having wanted to go for more details for a while now. "Wraith said it was corporate sabotage?"

"Something like that," Expatriette said curtly. "It's more like corporate theft. Five Revo-Corp shipments have been hijacked this month."

"That sounds bad." Unity frowned. "...uh, what exactly is Revo-Corp?"

"Revo-Corp is—Jesus, Wraith, did you brief her _at all?_ "

The Wraith didn't look up from her utility belt, which she appeared to be triple checking for her equipment. "Not on much. She's learning the art of listening and passively soaking up intel."

"Rook City isn't the place for a _field trip._ "

"And how I teach an apprentice hero isn't your business, any more than it is mine where you set up a safehouse." The Wraith finally looked up, giving Expatriette a brief look over. "...but for the record, the abandoned refinery on 27th street is too obvious. Even the dark can't cover those soot streaks, and it'd be obvious to anyone that you're using the tools there to prep your special ammo."

Expatriette blinked before glancing up and down herself, seeming surprised and a touch alarmed. "It's... not on 27th. You're guessing."

"Sure I am. Shall we move to location while you think about a new safehouse?"

Shouldering her rifle with a growl, Expatriette started moving, covering brisk pace on the crowded Rook City rooftops. The Wraith began prowling as well, but for a moment stopped by Unity.

"Try not to antagonize her too much," she whispered. "She doesn't like you."

"Really? I couldn't tell." Unity kicked idly at the ground, sighing. "I don't know why though. I didn't even do anything to her."

"That doesn't matter. You have powers, and to Amanda that makes you stupid and over reliant on them."

" _Just_ because I have powers? That's not fair."

"No, it isn't," the Wraith agreed. "You're just inexperienced and over reliant on them."

Unity stuck her lip out, but said nothing.

"Come on," the Wraith continued. "If she gets too far ahead of us we'll never hear the end of it. Just stay quiet and keep your mind on the mission. I'll explain more details as we go."

With a sigh and now _very slightly_ dampened enthusiasm, Unity followed the other heroes along the rooftops and into the black city.

 


	6. Sucker Punch

"Nuh uh," Meredith decided finally, crossing her arms.

Dana gave a long suffering sigh. Her wife had been like this for as long as she'd known her—scatterbrained, but with a brain powerful enough to complete every idea as fast as they came up. But the downside of a brain that big, Dana had realized over a long time, was that it was hard to face the fact that it could be _wrong_ about some things.

"It's not that big a deal," she said soothingly, stroking Meredith's hand with her own. "We all have our faults."

"I'm not denying that," Meredith shot back, her face scrunched up and stubborn. "But this isn't one of mine. My mind has _always_ been precise and well-ordered. I couldn't accomplish what I have with an attention problem like Devra's."

"No. It's well-ordered in the way a _hurricane_ is. Which is to say, it isn't, but it's so fast and so powerful it can get a lot done anyway."

"That's a poor analogy. Hurricanes _do_ follow an internal order and logic. Meteorologically speaking, they're structured by the movement of-"

"Meredith." Dana made her voice firm. "You're doing it _right_ now."

"...hmmph." Her wife leaned back away from her, looking deeply troubled. Dana hated saying anything that made her look that way, but, well... some things needed to be said. Like the time back in college when she'd had to convince her that learning ventriloquism just to impress Aislin Allen was going to be a waste of time and energy.

"You could look at this an entirely different way," Dana said once more, gently. "This is an opportunity."

"In what _possible_ way is this an opportunity?" Meredith groaned. "It's just a flaw I have to think about from now on. _And_ I have to second guess myself when talking to Devra from now on, just to make sure I'm not being hypocritical with every conversation I have."

"It's not about hypocrisy," Dana insisted. "It's about who's in the best position to _help_ her."

Meredith paused, looking at her curiously. Dana smiled, and went on.

"You're taking this too personally," she explained. "Your mind isn't perfect, and you're taking that to mean you can't deal with Devra's issues. Well, I'm saying that maybe this means you're the _best_ person to deal with Devra's issues."

"I'm not really following," Meredith said slowly. "Devra needs a calm, orderly mind as a role model."

"She does, but she also needs a role model she can _relate_ to," Dana said. "She needs someone who understands what she's going through, and can help her through the parts that are a bit tricky for her. Computers are better at math than humans, but humans still make better teachers for students. Why?"

"Because very few computers are Turing complete?"

"Because the human teacher can understand why a student might be struggling with something," Dana replied, sighing. "A computer would probably just set a student a thousand hard problems and expect them to solve them by trial and error. A human teacher can see things from the student's point of view, and guide them through it."

"I... think I see what you're saying," Meredith said after a long moment, brow furrowed in thought. When her eyes flitted up, she gave a soft smile. "When did you learn so much about computers?"

"Oh, I don't know the first thing about them," Dana said, grinning back. "I've just learned a thing or two about getting arguments through your head. Mostly by trial and error."

Meredith laughed softly, but still looked distracted. "...I feel like I might not have been seeing things from Devra's point of view," she admitted guiltily. "I haven't been that great of a teacher so far."

"That's the flip side of being human," Dana mused. "Making mistakes. But we can fix them. You can look at your current approach, consider if it would work for _you,_ and if not, you can adjust it."

"You're right," Meredith said, face brightening. "It's just like any other project. I can make course corrections as I go!"

"Now you're getting it!"

"I just have to put myself in her shoes, imagine myself doing what she's doing, and..."

Meredith abruptly trailed off, her face suddenly looking horrified. Dana felt a spike of alarm—that face was seldom anything good.

"...um, dear? You're making the same face you made when you deduced an alien war fleet was coming to Earth."

"I sent her on a _stake-out,_ " Meredith breathed, her face aghast.

"A what now?" Dana frowned. "Like in the detective shows? An actual stake-out?"

"Exactly like the detective shows," Meredith whispered. "Sitting still... for a whole night... watching nothing... with the _Wraith._ "

"Oh, God," Dana said, feeling a chill. "I spend a chunk of every day posing to have my picture taken, and I'm not sure if _I'd_ make it through that."

"I would make it roughly a minute before throwing myself off the roof," Meredith said, massaging her forehead. " _And_ I'd only make it that long by letting my mind wander and focus on everything _but_ how boring this was, which would do nothing to solve the attention problem. How did I think this was going to be a good idea?"

Dana declined to answer that rhetorical question. "Maybe you can still call the Wraith and call it off?"

"No, they'll have already started. Besides, Devra would just take it to mean I didn't think she could handle it."

"So she's basically stuck there," Dana said slowly. "Well... at least you'll know not to go for it in the future."

"Silver lining," Meredith grimaced. "God, I'm glad I talked to you about this. Who knows what disasters I would have caused."

"Now you're being melodramatic," Dana said, smiling. "She'll be bored to tears, but she'll be fine. From what I hear superheroes have to be strong enough to cope with that."

"I think I'd rather be beaten black and blue," Meredith replied. She shook her head with another sigh. "I really hope this night isn't _too_ tough on her..."

 


	7. Blighted Streets

Jumping from rooftop to rooftop was actually way easier than Unity had always assumed it would be. At least, it was in a city where the alleys were barely wide enough for street cats and the buildings were all cramped like sardines. Seriously, what kind of sociopath designed this place?

She'd worried she'd need to use her powers to make floating platforms to get around, which would no doubt make Expatriette like her even _less,_ but it turned out to be pretty simple to make a little jump from one or the other. It was a bit dubiously legal to go jumping around on people's property like this, but hey, it worked and one of the Freedom Five was doing it, so it couldn't be that bad.

It was actually kind of fun. Slowly sneaking through the night, making a dramatic jump over every gap between buildings, stealthily making their way to the site of a mysterious robbery... it really felt superhero-ish. Ninja-ish, even.

Ooh! This was giving her ideas for the next Stealth Bot iteration. She could give her better legs for longer jumps, maybe letting her cover more ground and distract enemies a little better. Ooh! And she could be black for blending in with the night better. Ooh! And-

The Wraith and Expatriette suddenly stopped on a rooftop, causing Unity to break her stride and stumble a moment by the side of a building. The former's eyes gave her a concerned look. The latter's looked profoundly annoyed.

"I'm okay," she blurted without thinking, earning a sharp ' _shh'_ from both heroes. She winced at her own impulse, and covered her mouth as she moved to squat down besides the other two.

They were looking down at a shady-looking warehouse surrounded by tall fences and barbed wire—Unity wasn't sure if this counted as high security or if this was the common sense equivalent to locking your front door in this seedy city. Workers were ambling around down there, stacking empty and open crates along some pallets.

"Shipment hasn't started," Expatriette whispered. "I'm taking position."

She gave the Wraith some sort of hand signal Unity didn't recognize and moved swiftly away and out of sight. Unity scooted closer to the Wraith and tried to keep her voice at the quietest possible whisper.

"Okay, I'm ready. What's the plan? Which of those are the corporate thieves?"

"None of them," the Wraith whispered back, squinting through a pair of high-tech-looking binoculars. "Or maybe all of them. Not sure yet."

"Oh." Unity frowned. "Then how do we know what to do?"

"We don't. We're watching and gathering intel."

Unity was quiet for a long moment. "...that's... that's it?"

"That's how stake-outs tend to work, yes."

"I thought this was a... you know... mission..."

"Do you think it's only a mission if we get into a fight?" The Wraith's voice was quiet, but pointed nonetheless. "Being a hero is more than thrilling fights and daring heists. Sometimes, we're just watching and waiting for trouble."

"Oh... okay. If that helps people, that's cool." Unity stared down at the warehouse, feeling disappointed nonetheless. Was that really it? They were just gonna sit here?

"...uh, how long do these usually last for?"

"As long as they need to," the Wraith replied, disinterested. "Do you not think you can sit in one place and do it?"

"No no! I can totally do this!" Unity said quickly. "I was just asking."

"Good."

They were quiet a long, boring moment.

"...I was also wondering-"

"We don't usually talk on stake-outs," the Wraith said matter-of-factly.

"Right, right."

A long, silent eternity passed. Or at least, it did as far as Unity was concerned.

"...do you _ever_ talk when-"

"Devra."

"...sorry. Shutting up."

Alright, that was that. From this point on, Unity was _all_ one hundred percent professional superhero. No talking, no twitching, no straying from her path. Just a pair of keen eyes monitoring the street for crime.

And _certainly_ no falling asleep.

Unity was a superhero, and tonight, it would show.

 

* * *

 

Superheroes were stupid.

Amanda Cohen stationed herself on the opposite rooftop, giving herself a wide open vantage over the warehouse driveway, the street in both directions, _and_ the opposite roof. She needed no ludicrously expensive night vision goggles or infrared movement sensors to do her job. Her eye pierced through the darkness, picking out every detail. Every detail from the chatting Revo-Corp flunkies down below to the punk intern across the street trying not to fall asleep.

Those who called themselves 'super', one way or the other, tended to miss the finer details; to go through their lives without seeing the real best way to do things. A teleporter would never learn how to walk quietly. An invisible man would never learn how to hide. An energy manipulator would never learn the power a gun could give you.

She strongly suspected that a technopath was part of the broader category of 'supers' who were incapable of learning patience. Why would you ever learn something like that if you could make anything you needed out of scraps and nails?

Bringing Devra Caspit, therefore, was a mistake. A mistake made by the Wraith, who almost certainly was a very rich woman in her secret identity. Being fantastically wealthy almost equated to a superpower in how much it blinded you. It clearly taught the Wraith that the best way to solve a problem was to hire someone.

Well, at the end of the day, Expatriette didn't really care. She was here, and the _superheroes_ were over there. They'd do their part of the job, and Expatriette would do hers... better than them. Showing up people like them was what she lived for.

God knew there was nothing else to live for on these blighted streets.

 

* * *

 

 

_I am not going to fall asleep._

That was Unity's mantra, repeated to herself over and over and over and _over_ again during the next few hours.

_I am not going to fall asleep._

That was harder than it sounded. She was up way later than she usually was, _and_ she hadn't had the second cup of coffee she normally had in the early afternoon. She'd been about to make it, but then got distracted by her cool laser sword idea.

Ugh... Dr. Stinson was right, wasn't she. She really _couldn't_ focus.

That was okay though. She knew what her problem was, and she could fix it. She was focusing on the warehouse. She had her eyes locked straight ahead, staring at nothing _but_ the warehouse. Lit only by the moon whenever a cloud wasn't blocking the way, it stood there impassive in the night, unmoving, unchanging.

Gah, it was _so_ unfair that the workers down there got to sit around and chat about things with each other. Every time she tried to talk to the Wraith she just got a stern stare.

Everything was _just_... so... uninteresting...

 

* * *

 

 

Interesting... _very_ interesting.

The Wraith's focus never broke as she analyzed the warehouse down below, picking out every detail. Much of it was as she suspected—a covert location for the shipment, a small and disguised security detail, and a number of bored workers chatting were all what she could have predicted.

But other aspects bore more scrutiny. For one, the security detail was _too_ small. Revo-Corp had lost hundreds of thousands on these cargo hijackings, and a few discreet employees of a private security firm weren't anywhere _near_ enough to ensure it didn't happen again.

Could one or more of the guards be empowered? It seemed unlikely. Revo-Corp was big on its publicity, and if they had access to empowered personel to guard their interests, they would be doing everything in their power to make a public show of it.

Instead they picked _this_ shady corner of a shady city, hidden away in the shadows. Were they relying on stealth alone to protect their investment? Or was something deeper at play here?

Hours passed, the moon slowly moving across the sky. The Wraith's sources had been fairly positive that the shipment was going to occur on this night, so she wasn't concerned she'd moved on the wrong date. Nor was she put out over the long boring wait—it gave her time to think, to analyze, and to plan.

Devra seemed far more affected by the long stake-out, slumped and shaking herself in an obvious and desperate attempt to stay awake. It was an impressive effort. She wondered how much the intern had managed to gather from watching the warehouse.

 

* * *

 

There was absolutely _nothing_ to gather from the warehouse. It was _just_ some guys waiting for a truck. Why did they have to show up hours before the shipment thing anyway? Couldn't they show up _right before_ the truck showed up?

She let her mind wander, desperate to latch onto _something_ that wasn't going to put her to sleep.

Maybe some bot ideas? She had some ideas for a dragon bot that would fly and breathe fire. Now _that_ would be metal as all hell. Figuratively and literally.

And of course, there was the laser sword. _That_ idea always bore revisiting. If Helena could make it work she was sure she could figure it out too.

Because she could do _anything._ Whether it was a hard-to-make robot or a tough villain-fighting mission. A fierce fight or a long, unspeakably boring night on a rooftop.

Because she was _Unity._

That meant she was determined.

She was resolute.

She was undaunted.

She was... a superhero...

 


	8. Supersonic Streak

"Devra, wake up."

"Gah!" Devra suddenly jerked her head up, completely unaware of where she was or how she got here. Who? What? Where? How? Why was she on a rooftop? Why was she wearing black?

Was that _the Wraith_ talking to her?

The realization, and the shame that came with it, hit her all at once.

"Oh God..." she whispered hoarsely. "I am _so_ sorry. I-"

"Shh." The Wraith hushed her quickly, making a gesture down to the warehouse. She caught on quickly and turned her gaze down there.

A truck was pulling up by the warehouse, the workers all getting to their feet and grabbing nearby crates. It was dark, but she could make out the name "Rook-Cable" emblazoned on the side of the truck.

"Cable..." Unity squinted at it, and groaned in frustration and exhaustion. "You've got to be kidding me. We wait here all this time and we get the wrong truck?"

The Wraith looked up from the warehouse long enough to give her a flat, slightly exasperated expression. "R.C.," she mouthed silently.

Unity stared at her in confusion a moment, before it hit her. "Disguised acronym. Oh... oh, jeez. I'd have gotten that if I weren't so tired."

Wait, why'd she just say she was tired? Now she looked dumb, incompetent, _and_ lazy. Dang it, this night really wasn't going like she'd been hoping for.

The Wraith had already stopped paying her attention, her focus once again locked onto the truck as it pulled into the warehouse parking lot. A couple of guys got out of it—both were stocky looking guys with guns. "Only two guards," the older hero whispered, sounding incredulous. "And both obvious, on a truck that's supposed to be hiding. Are they really that incompetent? Or..."

She trailed off, and then pulled a couple of items out of her belt. "I'm going down there to plant a tracking device. Devra, I need you to survey the site from here. _Do not_ interfere, whatever happens down there. Just observe."

Unity found a pair of futuristic-looking goggles placed carefully in her hands. Ordinarily she'd be stoked over this, but exhausted and embarrassed as she was right now, she was mostly just confused. "I... sure. Okay. I can do that. Promise."

The Wraith didn't wait any longer. Swinging a wicked grappling hook around in circles a moment, she flung it through the air and went soaring down towards the warehouse, like some sort of undetectable ninja-bat.

_Ninja-bat? God, I need some sleep._

Unity put the night vision goggles up to her eyes and began her vigil. She wouldn't fall asleep _or_ lose focus.

...not again, anyway.

 

* * *

 

Something felt very, very wrong about this mission. The Wraith felt that quite strongly, though it was hard to precisely put her finger on it. It was simply a number of inconsistencies and odd details that didn't add up.

They were hiding the shipment, but not very well. They had security, but not enough of it. They could potentially lose millions, yet their defense plan was bad enough it might have been concocted by a corporate stooge's ten year old son on bring-your-kid-to-work day.

This was not a normal case of corporate theft. This was all wrong.

Which made swinging towards it through the shadows in a silent strike towards the truth feel very, very right.

She landed without a sound on the roof of the truck, positioning herself with the shadows so that she couldn't be seen. Expatriette had doubtless noticed her, but the workers and cheap security detail most certainly did not. They were too occupied with the crates they carried.

Fortunately, she had something in her utility belt for this. She produced another pair of goggles and peered through them, focusing on the crates. An effect not dissimilar to an x-ray kicked in, though according to Tachyon the science was a great deal more complicated than that. She could make out the interiors of the crates with precision as though she'd just busted them open and peered inside.

It was as she suspected. There was technology in there, and though looks could be deceiving, it seemed advanced. There were guns with peculiar coils in their barrels, packages of cartridges that would be glowing if they weren't locked away in crates, and bits and pieces of what looked like suits of armor.

This wasn't any ordinary product shipment.

This was part of an _arms deal._

But that still left questions. Obviously this was a lucrative but possibly illegal endeavor, but why the poor security detail? Why not conduct this at sea or otherwise neutral ground? Why not-

Suddenly every single worker, guard and crate carrier was knocked out simultaneously.

The Wraith blinked. What the _hell-_

She was slightly more prepared for it this time around. What looked like a red bolt of lightning shot across the warehouse courtyard, crackling with sparks as it ran by a crate and disappeared with it. It took barely a second for it to come back around, whisking away with yet another.It reminded her of something she'd seen before, time and time again out in the field. She never thought she'd face it when it wasn't on her side, and yet here they were.

There was a speedster in Rook City.

 

* * *

 

At first Unity thought there was a glitch in the goggles. She was doing what she was told, watching the green silhouettes of the loading truck workers milling about with their boxes, when all of a sudden...

Wizzzzz.

Zooooom.

Waaaaaack.

There was a flash of red lightning that filled the goggles, hurting her eyes. When looked through them next to find the workers they were all lying flat on their backs, moving weakly and with dropped crates lying _everywhere._

_Did the Wraith do that? She said she was only going to put a tracker on something!_

Then again, the older superhero hadn't bothered to tell her anything _else_ about the mission, so maybe this was just part of the pla-

Another zip of red lightning darted through the night, taking a box.

Then another.

Then _another._

It kind of looked like... when Tachyon was moving at her top speeds. But she wouldn't be here stealing crates, right?

Her mind was still reeling when the first gunshot rang out.

 

* * *

 

_No!_

The Wraith darted away from the truck as the rapid fire cracks of a machine gun split through the night air, following the red streak as fast as bullets could. That wasn't enough, it seemed, as the lightning bolt didn't stop moving and a streak of icy potmarks appeared in the ground. Expatriette was using her cryo-bullets, it seemed; she wasn't shooting to kill, but _had_ reverted to the old standby of 'shoot first and ask questions later.'

They'd _agreed_ that tonight was about reconaissance, not retaliation, but apparently the appearance of a new superpowered player on the scene had changed things for the former mercenary. She had no doubt already concocted a new on-the-fly plan for bringing her down, and would do so or die trying.

Or get everyone else killed trying, which was the Wraith's primary concern. She muttered a curse that would no doubt hurt the Freedom Five's public image were they in public and shot out her grappling hook.

Maybe something about this night could be salvaged.

 

* * *

 

 

Amanda Cohen had never shot a speedster before, but she'd thought about it a lot.

The hero Tachyon was the most prominent type example of this variety of superhuman. Capable of eating dinner in Megalopolis and grabbing dessert in Paris, she was easily the fastest human on the planet and would be a considerable problem for assassination. How could you shoot someone who could outrun a bullet?

The answer, of course, was that you shot them the same way you shot anyone. From a distance, without them knowing.

Having run through quite a few scenarios in which she might be called upon to shoot Tachyon—or, she corrected herself, someone with the _abilities_ of Tachyon—Expatriette had a hearty confidence in her ability to gauge where the streak would move next and nail it with a cryo-round. True, that wasn't what she'd planned with the Wraith, but plans had to change sometimes. Corporate theft was something to approach slowly and with an investigative mindset. Superhumans required action and quick thinking, or else you lost the one advantage you had against them.

Expatriette knew this better than most people. So when she raised the barrel of her rifle and squeezed the trigger, she did so as the one person in this city who had the knowledge, experience, and general guts to take the shot.

This made it hard to process the fact that she missed.

The streak _zig-zagged,_ seemingly at random, throwing off Expatriette's prediction. Her bullets struck the ground in an obvious line, no doubt tipping the mark off to her presence. She cursed vividly as she swapped ammo and backed into a nearby chimney, adopting a defensive posture.

How long had it been since she'd actually _missed?_ That made this personal.

No matter, though. At least now the speedster had to come to _her,_ and in so doing would offer herself as a target for the split second she needed to-

Expatriette was punched roughly fifteen times in the face before she realized she'd been touched. Fast as her reflexes were, there'd been nothing she could do; this streak was going even faster than she'd seen Tachyon run at. Her one good eye, already swollen from a blunt blow she'd barely registered, caught the red glint coming back towards her with all the speed of a laser targeter.

She fired off a shot, but it did nothing. When the streak went by the next time it took the gun right out of her hands, like pulling an accessory out of a doll's motionless fingers.

Leaving her unarmed, standing on a rooftop against a foe faster than her eye could track.

"Damn it," she spat. "You sneaky motherfu-"

 

* * *

 

The Wraith landed on the rooftop in time to see Expatriette take another dozen hits in quick succession, the red streak rushing around her like a miniature tornado. The woman took the hits with a series of pained grunts, bruises appearing on her face and stomach so quickly it looked like magic. She was powerless to resist her attacker. The Wraith dug in her utility belt for a pair of throwing knives she doubted would be effective.

Everything changed in a second—she'd underestimated Expatriette's ability to dig herself out of trouble. With the streak running circles around her she'd had the presence of mind to stick out her foot, simply _tripping_ the runner and sending them flying to the edge of the rooftop.

A figure in red clothes landed flat on their face, groaning in a feminine voice and crackling with electricity. "Damn it... gah!"

She let out another cry as a stun bolt pegged her in the back. The bolt sparkled with its own electricity, designed to stun her nervous system.

"Don't make a move," the Wraith warned, moving forward with a razor locked and loaded. "Or the next shot is going to hurt a lot more."

"Ugh... always the threats with you people..." The woman growled, her fists clenching against the stone roof. "Screw you, _superhero_."

Before the Wraith could even react the woman had gotten off the ground and punched the weapon out of her hands, landing several blows across her body all in unison. As it turned out, the electric surge of the stun bolt hadn't been as effective as it normally was.

She pondered this as she flew across the roof, striking a chimney and getting the air knocked out of her lungs.

 


	9. Flash Forge

Oh _sparks._

Unity felt her mind racing into a panic as she watched what was going on down by the warehouse, her eyes only barely managing to wake up. First the streak was in one place, then another, then another, then there were gunshots, then she found herself watching Expatriette and the Wraith both get their butts kicked on the adjacent building...

Wraith had said not to interfere. But that was only about the _trucks,_ right? She was supposed to interfere now, right? Or did the Wraith have a plan she'd screw up if she acted now? What could she even do against a super speedster anyway? Tachyon had that power and she was pretty much invincible!

Her mind raced with options and possibilities, new ideas, strategies, and fears all boiling out of her brain like bees out of a hive. There was just too much! Too many things going on! Too many things that could go wrong! Too many things that she could-

She realized in her frantic flurry of thoughts she'd kicked her powers on without thinking about it, and turned the spare metal she kept in her belt pockets into a swarm of robot bees that buzzed angrily in their field of pink energy.

Dang, pink was a _bright_ color on a dark Rook City night.

At least it made the decision for her.

With a grandiose gesture of her hands she sent the swarm of bees racing through the dark at the red streak, with orders to sting and cause nuisance.

Squinting through the night vision goggles, it looked like it worked. She saw a humanoid shape leap in alarm as the bees closed in, swatting ineffectually at them and dancing all over the rooftop in an effort to shake them. They distracted her—it looked like a she from here--from beating up the Wraith and seemed to be doing the job of annoying her _very_ well. There really was nothing like a swarm of angry bee bots to suck the fun out of crime.

Then there was a crack of red lightning, and every golem Unity had sent over there suddenly stopped responding to her will. She only had a vague sense of obliterated pieces to go by, and bright blurry spots before her eyes where she'd stared through the goggles and into the lightning blast.

"GAH!"

She exclaimed in pain, throwing the goggles aside and rubbing urgently at her eyes. " _Sparks,_ that hurt. How did she even-"

There was suddenly a high-speed fist colliding with her stomach, and it felt like every internal organ in her body was doing a somersault of pain. She tried to cry out but nothing came out, and she felt herself flop down onto the hard stone rooftop with blurry vision.

"So _you're_ the replacement."

A snide female voice was the only sound in the universe. Unity sucked in as much air as she could, a part of her brain morbidly wondering if she was going to throw up blood like in the gritty movies as she found herself staring at a pair of red-streaked sneakers pacing across the rooftop.

"I can't believe what I'm looking at. She fired _me_ just to hire some... lousy punk who makes bees?"

"Bee _bots,_ actually," Unity managed to pant out, trying to roll to her feet. "Or... _technically_ more like wasps. But bee bots sound cooler."

"You're kidding me." The woman in red sounded incredulous. For the first time Unity got a good solid look at her. She wore red top to bottom, one shoulder bare in the sort of weird fashion choice supervillains liked to make. There were some metal bracer things on her arms, tight and sleek. It altogether gave her an aerodynamic appearance, and she wore a pair of red-tinted goggles that reminded her of the ones Tachyon always wore.

"You're freaking kidding me," the not-Tachyon speedster continued, putting her hands on her hips. "You look stupid and you _sound_ stupid and you make stupid things. Why you? What makes _you_ so special?"

That was almost a fair question. Almost. Unity didn't acknowledge that out loud, though. Instead she smirked, despite the pain. "Not really sure... maybe it's because _BRAINSTORM!_ "

She whipped out her special attack, a crackle of lightning straight from her own brain. It arced through the cool crispy air, striking the supervillain with precision.

And did absolutely nothing. The electricity just crackled across her body, sparking brightly a moment before dampening away.

"Wow." The villain said, her voice sounding disgusted. "Just _wow._ Now it really stings. Now it's just insulting."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Unity said, arms folded while her mind started racing. "Though for the record, whoever said you should wear that _was_ trying to hurt you and _was_ trying to get you insulted. What's your super-person name, anyway? The Red Streaker?"

Her gaze turned furious. "The name's _Friction,_ bitch."

"What kind of name is Friction Bi-"

That remark got her punched squarely in the eye at the speed of sound, which was fair. She still let out another cry and got knocked over, putting a hand up to her rapidly swelling face.

"You aren't taking me seriously!" Friction snapped. She zoomed back to where she'd been standing before Unity could even hit the ground. "That's the mistake _she_ made that you seem to want to repeat. Well, I'll do you a favor. I'll teach you to know better."

She was gone in a flash, leaving Unity blinking in surprise. By the time she next opened her eyes Friction was back in front of her, holding what looked like the engine to a car. Specifically, the truck down on the street in front of the warehouse.

"You make robots, right? Why don't you show me how you got this job?"

Unity stared suspiciously at her and the truck, before throwing up her hand and seizing the entire engine in a ball of pink light. It responded instantly to her will, turning into a full-sized automaton modeled after Legacy. It leaped heroically at the villain, iron fist raised in a motivational charge, ready to-

Friction struck like a bolt of lightning, sending shards of metal flying everywhere. Unity growled and grabbed every piece while they were still in the air, reshaping the flying shrapnel into a dozen snarling Raptor Bots that went clambering back towards the source of the explosion in a flurry of slashing claws and gnashing metal teeth.

A thunderbolt cracked and Friction moved in a red tornado, leaving the raptor bots a mere scattered collection of nuts and bolts on the rooftop. She gave Unity a condescending smirk. "That's all _really_ the best you can do? Make toys?"

Unity gritted her teeth and clenched her fists, the metal swirling around her again as though she stood in the center of a pink hurricane. "You have no _idea_ what I can do. Unlike you I have more than one trick."

"Doesn't really matter if they're all useless, don't you think?"

She made a Cryo Bot that produced a blast of super coolant energy, intent on freezing this awful person in place. With a speedy sidestep she easily avoided the attack, retaliating with a precisely delivered bolt of lightning that blew the bot to smithereens.

Smithereens were okay. Unity could work with smithereens. Shards froze in midair mere inches from her eyes, reshaping into shiny chrome chains compressed to be as dense and strong as she could possibly make them. She sent them lashing out at lightning speed and from all directions, trying to entangle the speedster.

Friction somehow just... _vibrated_ and the chains phased through her like she wasn't there. Ghost-like she stepped right through them, and turned solid again long enough to run along on top of one and punch Unity right in the side of the head.

Devra hit the hard ground, ears ringing and not even sure she'd seen what she just thought she saw. Desperately she pulled the metal together again, her mind flooding with ideas.

A Tachyon bot! It was faster than anything she'd ever made before, but it wasn't fast enough. It turned into scrap.

An angel bot! It swung a sword and a fist blazing with energy, but got knocked to little pieces almost as soon as it came together.

A gunslinger bot! Disarmed and then robbed of its arms all in the same second.

A... dragon bot...? It didn't even get to breathe fire before Friction smashed it.

Maybe a-

She got kicked in the stomach and went rolling across the rooftop, stopping just by the edge. She could feel Friction kneeling down beside her, grabbing her by the shirt collar and dragging her up.

"You're exactly what I thought you were."

Devra blinked weakly, making out the woman's face sneering a mere few inches from her own. She was pretty sure she was bleeding in a few places, and the bruises she'd just been given _hurt._ She wasn't even sure what her insides looked like right now. They felt like they had the general consistency of jelly.

"You're a stupid girl who got a stupid job because you got stupid powers."

Friction had a self-satisfied tone. It almost sounded relieved, somehow.

"It's good to know Stinson's as bad at judging character as ever."

Devra was going to die. Maybe? Possibly? She wasn't sure anymore. Usually she was pretty sure she _wasn't_ going to, but you never really knew, did you?

"You're a terrible excuse for a superhero, but do you know what you _will_ make?" Friction leered. "A good lab rat. I'm sure the Baron will come up with something useful when I take you back to him."

The Baron? Baron Blade? Somehow, as terrible as being captured by Baron Blade would be, Devra couldn't help but see the humor here. She found herself grinning with a bloody lip, snorting with laughter from lungs that barely had any air in them.

"What the—what's so funny?!" Friction demanded it tersely, giving her a rough shake. "Didn't we _just_ talk about taking me seriously?"

"It's kind of hard to," Devra replied, her voice barely coming out. "Since I'm pretty sure I just heard you talk about judgement of character and working for Baron Blade in the same monologue..."

Friction looked outraged, but the hero Unity gave her no time to react.

Her powers wrapped around the armbands the villain wore, digging into the metal and prying them away from her arms.

"What are you—NO NO NO DO NOT TOUCH THOSE!"

Unity didn't get a chance to do anything with them. Friction went into a panic, throwing her away from herself and grabbing the armbands as though for dear life.

She didn't even seem to _notice_ that she'd thrown Unity off of the high rooftop and down to her certain death.

 


	10. Volatile Parts

Mom had always predicted Devra would get herself killed.

It wasn't a hard prediction to make. Her child was prone to spacing out and doing things without thinking about them, like seeing something shiny and running down a busy street to pick it up. She once poked herself in the eye with a spoon handle because she was thinking about samurai and idly spinning it around like it was a sword. She once almost pulled a huge refrigerator down on herself because she'd randomly gotten it into her head that if she climbed the fridge she'd have a good vantage point for jumping out the window and looking _really_ cool when she landed dramatically on the sidewalk outside.

It was probably good the fridge started to lean the wrong way and Devra had jumped off it in fear and alarm, because the chances of landing on her feet after she jumped out the window were pretty slim. She probably would have hit her head and put Israel out one stupid and impulsive little girl.

Mom had always known something like that would happen eventually, and she had no problem saying it. Or screaming it at the top of her lungs. At home, or in public. Not when she was a child and certainly not when she was a teenager, though to be fair, that was when her powers started to show and Devra gained a whole new set of ways to kill herself.

It turned out the end outcome was going to look a lot like it would have if Devra's magnificent refrigerator-climbing idea had progressed further than it had. Because Rook City's sidewalk looked as hard as Ofakim's had been, and Devra was set to test that hardness with her own skull at very high speed.

Her mind was racing through idea after idea after stupid sparking idea, but Devra already knew what was about to happen. No awesome idea was going to save her. No comic book logic was going to put a soft obstacle between her and the ground.

She was going to _splat._ And that was going to be that.

She kind of wished she'd paid more attention to her rabbi when he was talking about the afterlife. Oh well.

Her body lost its breath as it collided with something. Her already bruised and squishy insides flared up in pain, and all of a sudden she felt like she was moving _up._ Confusion whirled in her head as she was carried up, up, and all the way up from near the ground in a swinging trajectory, dropped onto a different rooftop than the one she was thrown off of.

"Devra!" The Wraith's voice was urgent as she tapped Devra on the face, clipping a grappling hook to her side. "Are you alright? Where are you hurt?"

...she'd been saved. Not only had she been saved, but she'd been saved by _the Wraith_ catching her on the way down while _swinging on a grappling hook._

That wasn't just lucky.

That was _sparking awesome._

Unity threw up all over the Wraith's boots.

 

* * *

 

"I told you, I'm fine," Unity muttered in protest. She was standing upright on command, a good sign, and was showing a healthy amount of resistance and discomfort as the Wraith vigorously pat her down in the search for broken bones. None seemed to be broken, at least not badly, and her discomfort seemed to stem from embarrassment more than pain.

It seemed Devra Caspit had survived the night with no truly debilitating injuries, which filled the Wraith with a flooding sense of relief.

"You weren't supposed to get involved," she told the intern sternly. Just because she felt relief didn't mean she had to express it right now.

"I know, I know. I'm sorry." Unity winced. "I just... felt like I had to do _something_."

"That was impulsive."

"Yeah." The younger hero wouldn't meet her eyes."It was stupid, I know. I shouldn't have done it."

A different demeanor had settled over her. The confidence she normally carried herself with didn't survive a mild scolding, it seemed; like any young person just coming into her own, she had no idea how to handle her own failure.

"I didn't say that," the Wraith said carefully. "It's a better impulse than a lot of people have."

Unity looked up at her in surprise, her eyes widening and the swollen one not even wincing. She opened her mouth as though to say something, but a different voice cut her off.

"You just _had_ to bring the kid along, didn't you?"

Expatriette's tone dripped with condescension, causing Unity to flinch like she never would have against a Blade Battallion or the Citizens of the Sun.

"Lay off, Amanda," the Wraith said warningly. "You didn't fare any better."

"Oh, I didn't now, did I?" Expatriette paced angrily atop the rooftop, clearly fuming. The Wraith mentally chided herself. Amanda Cohen, like her mother, was a woman you didn't want to set off.

" _I_ can take care of myself," Expatriette went on. " _I_ don't need anyone to pause and catch me before I smear my brains on the pavement."

"Neither of you followed the plan," the Wraith pointed out. "And the plan wouldn't have carried us far anyway. You've been in this line of work long enough to know that no plan survives contact with an unexpected superhuman."

"Damn right I have," she spat back. "I _also_ know they have a habit of popping up when you don't expect them. Which is why I don't bring kids to crime scenes."

The Wraith sighed. She'd walked right into that one.

"I was trying to help." Unity's voice was soft; she kept her head down, but there was an edge to her tone that raised alarm bells. "Turns out I couldn't take her on by myself, but I was _trying_ to keep you guys from getting hurt."

Expatriette barked out a laugh. It didn't have the slightest trace of mirth to it. "Keep _us_ from getting hurt? Kid, you have no idea what we've been through."

"Well, I wasn't _there,_ " Unity said a touch defensively. "But I've seen the newsreels with the aliens and the Ennead and everyone else who tried to take over the world."

"And did we need your help _then?_ " Expatriette asked, her voice icy with condescension.

"I know there's _always_ something that takes you by surprise, and someone has to help you out of it!"

"Cool it, both of you," said the Wraith. "This doesn't-"

But Expatriette wasn't listening. Neither of them were.

"Your little fan girl shtick is cute and all, but in the real world experience is always more valuable than some punk's plucky spirit."

"I don't have experience," Unity snapped back through gritted teeth. "That's the whole point! I'm trying to _get_ experience!"

"No you aren't," Expatriette replied hotly. "No you _fucking_ aren't. You're living out a fantasy about _vanquishing evildoers_ and s _aving the day_. Experience is pain."

"Then I'm feeling really sparking experienced right now because _everything_ in my chest hurts!"

The Wraith rubbed the bridge of her nose, clearing her mind to keep from getting as furious as these two were.

She knew very well that tensions were high after losing a fight. Blame was passed around like candy and the simplest of mistakes became cause for outright odium. In that respect she was no better than anyone else. She remembered being furious at Tyler for weeks after he'd launched a missile into the building she'd been trying to stealthily observe.

The difference was that she'd now been part of a team long enough to know that anger passed. Nowadays when she threw it in Tyler's face, it was with a smile and with a quip thrown right back in return.

But Devra Caspit and Amanda Cohen weren't long time teammates—in point of fact they'd taken immediate dislikes to each other. It didn't take advanced psychology to know they both had serious issues coming down from their childhoods, nor to realize they were going to rip this makeshift team apart from the inside out.

"The enemy," said the Wraith sternly, "Is the criminal who robbed the Revo-Corp shipment. Not each other. Can we put aside the argument and tackle the situation like grownups?"

"I don't know," Expatriette snapped. "Maybe if you'd _brought_ a grownup-"

"I am _not_ a child!" Unity shouted, throwing her arms up in the air. Pink lightning flashed with chaos in her eyes. "If I weren't here I'd be drafted into the sparking _army!"_

"As if they'd have a trainwreck like you."

"They would!" She stomped her foot in an even more petulant motion. "Because _they_ aren't jealous of people with superpowers!"

The Wraith's breath caught in her throat.

Oh no. Oh...

She _didn't._

Expatriette stood still. Straight. The hot anger that had been on her face transformed to something else. Something cold.

She didn't say a word. She didn't give warning.

She just kicked Unity in the stomach hard enough to send her flailing onto her back against the hard concrete roof.

The Wraith tensed to intervene, but Expatriette didn't do anything more than that. She merely turned around and started to walk away.

"You were right, Wraith," she said as she went. "No plan survives contact with unexpected superhumans. So here's a new plan."

She turned her head backwards, her eye sharp with cold anger. "I take care of the speedster on my own, and you stay the fuck out of my way."

"Amanda-"

"Don't. Just... don't."

And with that the assassin was gone.

Damn it.

The Wraith glided over to Devra. "Are you alright?"

She had her eyes clenched shut. Not out of pain, or injury it looked like; the kick had brought a lot of emotions crashing down. "I'm... I'm okay."

There were a lot of things the Wraith could say. A chastisement. A lecture. Nothing at all.

"Get up."

Devra opened her eyes, looking uncertain. Even a touch fearful. The Freedom Five's displeasure brought out a very different Devra Caspit than people like Amanda. The Wraith continued, making her voice a second mask to hide behind, betraying no emotion.

"I need to know everything the speedster told you."

Devra frowned. The Wraith went on.

"And then I'm putting you up in a hotel. Tomorrow's another day. You have a lot of bruises you need to rest on before it."

 

 


	11. Devious Disruption

Krystal was on fire.

The Wraith, Expatriette, and Stinson's awful new intern all beat up in one night. If that didn't show how badass she could be, she didn't know what did!

Also, she was actually very literally on fire, and she let out a cry of alarm as it burnt her skin and sent her skidding dangerously through her boss's underground lair. Goons in green and purple costumes cried out in alarm and leapt out of this burning lightning bolt's path. She knocked over mechanics pushing a large and evil-looking device on a dolly. She made a darkly magical swamp-monster thing made of vines roar in anger as she flew past and caught it on fire with her lightning and, well, fire. She even knocked over an elderly priest, who was also here, for some reason.

Digging her shoes into the floor she managed to slow herself down, skidding to a stop right before hitting a firm concrete wall that would absolutely have splattered her into a thin mist if she'd hit it at high speed. She gasped from the effort, quickly patting herself down and snuffing out the flames.

"Damn it damn it damn it damn it damn it..."

When they were all out, and she was no longer at risk of electrocuting or obliterating herself on a wall, she finally allowed herself to slump against the wall and pass out from exhaustion.

 

* * *

 

 

Krystal woke up to the sound of classical music, which was never a good sign.

Her eyes weakly fluttered open, darting around and taking inventory of her surroundings. It was like she was in some bizarre cross between a finely decorated palace and a mechanic's garage. The center of the room was taken up with countless contraptions and workbenches, with a man in a white coat welding something and sending a flurry of sparks into the air. There were tapestries on all the far walls, each showing the same coat of arms for a country she'd never heard of. There were fine paintings of a man with rugged good looks rising out of the ruins of a city, pointing a finger from which sprang futuristic airplanes and floating platforms covered in force fields. The man, and subject of every painting, was depicted with a thin scar going past one eye that only served to accentuate his rugged handsomeness.

Krystal groaned. She knew exactly who the paintings depicted, and knew they were biased to put it kindly.

"Ah, young miss Lee... you awaken. The medics were quite concerned for you, I'll have you know."

The voice that spoke from across the chamber had a heavy accent she couldn't place, but she recognized the man who was speaking in it. She weakly managed to climb up to her feet, swaying where she stood and having to grab onto a tapestried wall for support.

"Careful with that. That's quite old and priceless. Very valuable. Many Soviets died so it could hang where it does now."

The man in the lab coat turned halfway, only one side of face turned towards her as he continued his work. He struck the same portrait in profile as the paintings would have one believe, but there was nonetheless something different about him. He was older, rougher, with something... _frightening_ dancing in his expression.

Baron Blade smiled, which made that ethereal but frightening _something_ stand out even further. "You stand even after falling. I like that. Once more, you prove you have a little something I like to associate with myself."

Krystal wanted to barf, but she refrained. In fact she didn't move or open her mouth at all, struggling to keep from passing out again.

"You may sit down of course, miss Lee. In fact I rather insist upon it."

She didn't want to, but it was best to obey the Baron's orders. In addition, the chair he gestured to with a gloved hand _did_ look pretty comfortable. She staggered into it with a loud sigh.

"I understand your mission last night did not go entirely as planned," the Baron said, his voice quiet.

No. No he would _not._ He was _not_ going to ignore all the great work she'd been doing for weeks now and only call her up to bash her for a mistake, like an uglier version of Stinson. Her fists clenched and she started to open her mouth to speak her mind.

"You defeated three extremely dangerous people, one of whom a member of the Freedom Five and another associated with them? Very well done!"

...wait, what?

Friction's eyes widened, surprised by the sudden praise. "I... yeah. They went down like chumps."

"That's what I want to hear," the Baron said, pleased. "The Wraith, Expatriette, and Unity are no match for even a fraction of the alliance I have assembled. Your accomplishment is a great one, miss Lee. Let none tell you otherwise."

Krystal felt her confidence start to seep back through her rattled bones. "Yeah... yeah! Hell, _Unity_ wasn't even superhero-worthy! Her power's the dumbest I've ever seen!"

"I would hardly say that." The Baron seemed thoughtful, picking up a stack of papers from a drawer and flipping through them. "Devra Caspit has the impressive power to bend technology to her will, which as I have proven, is perhaps the greatest power of all. Had I the efficiency she enjoys, I could rule the world."

His eyes twinkled with amusement. "Not that I could not already, were I not occupied with more important matters. We have both forsaken the wealth and prestige we could so easily claim for something greater."

"Yeah." Krystal said that, and immediately frowned. Wealth and prestige sounded pretty good, actually. "...which would be...?"

The Baron looked sharply up at her, though his smile remained wide. "The chance to settle the scores, miss Lee. The chance to take justice into our own hands."

Right... _that_ Krystal could get behind. "Justice is good," she said, smiling wide. "I made them _pay._ "

"Ah... yes and no." The Baron's smile faded for the first time. "You struck blows, but true vengeance is not ours yet. They are still standing, and you did _not_ return with the material you were to retrieve."

Krystal folded her arms, annoyed again. "Look, I tried. There were three superheroes there. I couldn't just ignore them."

"And nor should you. Indeed, I'm glad you engaged them. But true excellence would be to face down your foes _and_ to achieve a logistics victory." Baron Blade turned back to his tinkering project in the middle of the room. Looking at it with less blurry vision, it appeared to be some sort of robot with giant knives for hands and a big red eye. Creepy.

"Logistics?" Krystal rolled her eyes dramatically. "Nothing I've seen around here makes me think we're hurting for logistics. You've clearly got enough money to make your creepy robots and keep all the goons in metal sticks and laser guns. Besides which, I'm only _pretending_ to steal stuff you _already own._ "

"Miss Lee." Baron Blade's voice became firm, an edge to it. "There are reasons why I do things the way I do. There are reasons for every word I say and every night I send you into the field. You are to trust and obey, first and foremost. Only _then_ shall you achieve vengeance."

"Ugh! Always 'wait' and 'not yet' and 'sometime later' with you! Your idea of vengeance _sucks!_ "

Krystal folded her arms in defiance, meeting the scarred supervillain's gaze without hesitating. This was stupid, this was ungrateful, but she didn't care. He was smothering her goals just like Stinson had now.

Baron Blade was quiet for a long minute. "...my idea of vengeance is a carefully calculated one, miss Lee. Because the last time my calculations were askew, I lost _everything._ "

He stepped completely out of the shadows, and Krystal let out a yelp in spite of herself. Even having seen him like this before, it was still a hard sight to look at.

The scar across the Baron's face was not the light slash across an eye that the paintings depicted. It was a hideous burn that swallowed half his face, every inch of skin along one side of his head entirely scorched and twisted. If his flesh had been seared away to leave nothing but half a skull in its place, it would still be less morbid than the red catastrophe of a face he wore now with a sick smile.

"Ah, yes. _Now_ you see. It's worth denying constructive surgery just for moments like these." The Baron's smile only accentuated the flaming scar tissue that controlled half his mouth. "Krystal Lee, last night you came very close to death's door, as I once did myself. Are my mistakes ones you wish to repeat?"

She found herself shaking her head vigorously, staring at the scars as she often did. She just couldn't help herself. They were _hideous._

"That is what I expected," the Baron said cooly. He seemed not to mind her staring—in fact he almost seemed _pleased_ with it. As though he'd been hiding that half of his face not out of embarrassment but solely so he could turn and reveal it as dramatically as possible. "The speed suit you wear is a powerful weapon, miss Lee. A powerful weapon indeed. But use it poorly, without focus and without planning, and it could just as easily be your coffin."

Krystal grit her teeth, but for once she knew better than to argue with the statement. At least, that _part_ of the statement.

"Look... it's fine as long as the shock dampeners are working. There wouldn't have been _any_ issue last night if Caspit hadn't gone tearing into them."

Baron Blade raised an eyebrow, contorting the scarred half of his face into a ghoulish grin. "Ah, I see. So all our plans require is for Devra Caspit to solemnly swear not to tamper with your devices. With such an agreement in place, victory is assured."

"Don't mock me!" Krystal snapped, her temper flaring. "I swear you're as bad as Stinson is! The exact next thing I'm gonna do is take out Caspit so she can't screw up my stuff anymore."

The Baron held up his hands in an almost apologetic gesture. "I mean not to mock. But I hope you see my doubts. I think it is for the best that you not approach those particular foes again for a time—not until we are ready to finalize our plans."

"Yeah, screw that. I'm gonna-"

"Miss Lee." His voice became more firm again. "I have been doing this far longer than you have. You came to _me_ for help gaining your vengeance. Trust that I know what I am doing."

Krystal chewed on her lip, glaring at everything and nothing at the same time for a long moment. "... _fine._ I'll keep away. Just for a little while, though. Caspit _and_ Stinson are gonna be mine when you launch your big group vengeance scheme thing."

"You have a deal." The Baron's smile became almost warm. "With that out of the way, I wished to present you with a little gift."

He snapped his gloved fingers, and a few hovering devices brought forth a box and deposited it right in Krystal's lap. She frowned at it suspiciously.

"Well, go on. Open it. Don't—what is the expression? Look a gift horse in the mouth?"

She took a deep breath and took the lid off in one quick motion. Inside were her shock dampeners, put back together and assembled in peak condition.

"They're fixed!" she exclaimed with a cry, pulling the armbands out of the box and quickly putting them back on. Oh, it felt _good_ to have the whole suit again.

"With improvements," said Baron Blade with satisfaction. "Try to pry it apart. Go ahead. With all your strength, try to damage them."

Feeling some reservations over damaging the only things that would keep her from dying when she ran, she nonetheless complied in confusion. She did her best to pry some of the siding off, but just when it started to become detached, it snapped back perfectly into place.

"You made them indestructible," she said in awe, holding her arm up to the light.

"Well... not quite." The Baron scratched his chin. "I installed a system of ceramic nanites that repair the dampeners at the first sign of damage. Devra Caspit will not be able to reshape these—they will resist her every attempt."

That sentence filled Krystal with glee, like a kid who just found out they were having an early birthday party in a candy shop. "Oh _yes._ I am gonna own her _so_ hard when I get back out-"

"No, you will not," the Baron said pointedly. "At least, not right away. We just agreed this, do you remember?"

Krystal stared blankly at him for a moment, before sticking her lip out. "That's not fair! I agreed to that before you showed me these things! I'm invincible with these things!"

"You are _not_ invincible," Baron Blade replied, narrowing his eyes. "The new improvements come at some cost. You have no doubt noticed the new dials?"

She hadn't, actually. Looking over them again she found that both armbands had a dial on them with a bunch of weird little numbers written across them. "What the heck? What do these do?"

"What they _do_ is prevent you from dying," the Baron said. "As the dampeners build up charge you will need to turn the dials back to low settings, to discharge the energy before it damages the nanites and leaves the apparatus vulnerable to attack."

"That sounds... awful." Krystal grimaced. "You mean I'm supposed to fiddle with these while I'm supposed to be fighting? How am I supposed to keep up with that?"

"I would think the ability to move faster than sound would give you the time to adjust a dial every now and then," Baron Blade replied dryly. "The biggest issue for you would be in remembering to do so."

"What's that supposed to mean? You saying I can't focus? Is that it? I'll show you how well I can focus!"

"Good!" He turned away from her, setting back to work on his little doomsday robot. "Then you will take the time to slowly learn these controls before attempting to fight Tachyon, Unity, or indeed any of our other foes."

Dang. She'd ran right into that one.

"... _fine._ " Krystal shot a death glare at his back. "But I'd better get a chance to use these _soon._ "

Baron Blade chuckled as sparks began to fly from his welding project once more. "Patience, miss Lee. Patience and discipline. With patience and discipline all things are possible."

 


	12. Quick Insight

Meredith woke up snug and warm by Dana's side, but she wasn't comfortable.

Not really. Obviously there was nowhere she'd rather be than here by her wife, but she couldn't shake the conversation of the night before. It had been so long since she'd come face to face with something she could only recognize as a personal flaw; while it seemed arrogant now, she'd always ran around about her business with the background assumption that she was the best Meredith Stinson there could possibly be.

Setting aside multiverse theory, of course, which would open up a whole other can of worms. Worm _holes_. Though her recent research into spatial mechanics was leading her to believe that the way to access other dimensions wouldn't be by anything resembling an Einstein-Rosen bridge and instead by-

Her eyes widened in horror as she stared up at the ceiling. She was doing it _again._

She wanted to say it wasn't a true issue. She'd gotten _so much_ done in her life already that it would be hard for anyone to argue she was spread too thin, right? True, every time someone else started talking her mind wanted to run away to the far corners of the universe, but if it was fast enough to get back in time and respond to the conversation it was all well and good, right?

...right?

Maybe this had been a problem for a while. Maybe her friends, teammates, and even spouse were regularly put out by her lack of attention and simply hadn't said anything. Maybe it was even affecting her problem-solving ability, and she'd been unknowingly operating at less than peak efficiency for years.

Maybe she _wasn't_ the best Meredith Stinson she could be.

Maybe it was time she turned this lightning brain of hers to _that_ particular problem.

The electric clock at the bedside turned to 6, which would be a wake-up call for them both if this weren't their mutual day off. She zoomed out of bed, got dressed, and slammed the snooze button all before the noise could go off.

And then, slowly, she gave Dana a tender kiss on the forehead.

"Be home later. I love you."

Her wife muttered a drowsy "I love you" in her sleep, but Tachyon was already halfway across the city.

A minute later, a Freedom Five notification lit up on the personal com device she left behind.

 

* * *

 

Megalopolis Public Library was _fantastically_ huge. It took almost a whole millisecond to run from one end to the other!

It would probably be more if it weren't currently closed, what with all the people Tachyon would ordinarily have to slow down to avoid running over. But empty as it was now, she had the whole place to herself for browsing and reading.

This... _technically_ wasn't allowed. But since she'd once _personally_ saved this building from being flattened by an alien warlord and his army, she felt it was totally fair to allow herself a quick run-through. At least, that's what she'd very subtly imply in the court case. If there was one. Which there wouldn't be, because she was too fast to get caught.

She blitzed over to the self-help section, plucking the first book that caught her eye off the shelf and giving it a rapid flip-through. _The Unfocused Mind,_ by a professional life coach. Looked promising!

She got a quarter of the way through it before it invoked an outdated psychological theory and she shoved it back onto the shelf in disgust. But it did get her thinking—maybe the material on keeping a proper focus was in the _psychology_ section, not these layman texts! She zoomed to the other end of the aisle, flipping through books as she went.

 

* * *

 

_Neurological Disorder Symptoms and Their Identification_ by a man with almost as many PhD's as Tachyon had herself was a much more promising read. It made a reference to Eastern styles of meditation, which immediately piqued her curiosity. She dropped the book where she was standing and ran across the library once more, returning having read the entirety of _A Beginner's Guide to Zen and Meditation_ in time to catch the psychology book before it hit the ground.

Being focused was the _best._

 

* * *

 

_Principles of Buddhism_ was a great book up until it made Tachyon contemplate the impermanence of life and the inevitability of death. She'd really rather not think about the hypothetical future point at which she'd stop moving, so she left that one for now.

Maybe knowing a bit more about the culture would give her the context she needed to really understand the philosophy...

 

* * *

 

_The History of India in Seven Volumes_ was in effect eight volumes because of the uneven wordcounts in Volume Six's chapters, which even a novice editor would have trimmed or divided more evenly.

_'0/5, would not read again,'_ Tachyon finished, posting her review and swallowing the last bite of her granola bar. "Now where was I? Oh yeah. Hinduism."

 

* * *

 

According to _Modern Interpretations of the Bhagavata Purana,_ the Ganges river was nowadays extremely polluted and made countless people sick every year. Well that wouldn't do. That just wouldn't do _at all._

 

* * *

 

Tachyon flipped through _Infectious Disease Prevention for the 21_ _st_ _Century_ in one hand while swapping lab rat waterers with the other.

"Drink up, boys. That dysentery isn't gonna cure itself."

 

* * *

 

The Prime Minister of India sat up in bed with a loud exclamation Tachyon couldn't understand, clutching his chest.

"Sorry," she said apologetically. "Wanted to get this to you before I forgot, and I didn't have time to go through the proper channels. Hope I didn't frighten your security."

She threw him a stack of papers.

"...Dr. Stinson?" he asked tiredly, rubbing his eyes and switching to English. "What is the matter? Is there an invasion? Have Voss or Omnitron returned?"

"No no, nothing like that," Tachyon said, biting into the Vada Pav she got on the way over here. "I think I fixed the problem with the whole Ganges river thing. Here's a nine-step purification strategy you can give your boards to look over."

The Prime Minister of India gave a long, slow blink of confusion, before looking over the papers. "...thank you, Dr. Stinson. We are most grateful. We had no idea you were working on such a project."

"Oh, neither did I," Tachyon replied. "Just a little something that came up in my research. I'm reading about self-discipline and keeping an orderly mind, you see."

He stared at her as though the connection weren't obvious. Then it struck her.

"...ah, damn it. I did it again, didn't I? Son of a..."

She facepalmed hard, flinging Vada Pav crumbs all over the Prime Minister's bedroom, and then blitzed away again through the streets of New Delhi and with her face towards Rook City.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for giving this story a try! Embarrassingly I started this fic at the beginning of the year, writing over 30, 000 words before growing discouraged and abandoning it for many months. Fairly recently I finally picked it back up again and set to work finishing what I started, and now almost the entire fic is complete except for the very final scenes.
> 
> I intend to post new chapters every Saturday and Wednesday, so stay tuned!


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